


Peter Rabbit

by grimeslincoln



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, this is basically just a result of me wanting scenes with callum and lexi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:33:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeslincoln/pseuds/grimeslincoln
Summary: He knows it’s a terrible idea the moment his brain conjures up the thought, but his problem was the idea of Whitney looking after Ben’s daughter, surely there was nothing wrong with him doing it instead?Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s shouting after Lola, who’s barely had time to turn her back to them; “I could watch her for a bit, you know, if you want? I ain’t doing nothing.”or, Callum offers to babysit Lexi.





	Peter Rabbit

Since his and Ben’s first and only hasty hook up in the dimly lit park, Callum feels as though he’s been wading through his days, acting out of a mechanical instinct as opposed to any coherent awareness. It’s been over a fortnight since their encounter and still he’s unable to shake off the fog of desire that has clouded his brain ever since his lips first connected with the other man’s, memories of calloused fingertips and scraping stubble dragging him down until they threaten to drown him.

He can still feel the cool metal of the lamppost digging in to his back from where Ben had eagerly pressed him up against it, the aroma of musky cologne overwhelming his senses even weeks later, clinging to his skin even after he tries to scrub it off under the scalding hot stream of the shower. But no matter how many times he tries to wash away the recollection of that night or how hungrily he kisses Whitney in an attempt to untie the knot of burning need that has buried itself in his gut, he’s unable to escape the full body itch for something more that has haunted him since.

He’s also aware that Whitney has noticed his odd behaviour; she hasn’t directly questioned him but he’d picked up on the quizzical glances she’d shoot his way every time he was so inside his own head that she had to ask a question twice or the way she kept insisting they spend more time together to make up for the chasm of distance that suddenly seemed to have opened up between them. Her growing suspicion, combined with the gnawing of guilt and the warm comfort of denial, was one of the reasons why, a few days after the incident, he had sunk down on to one knee within the walls of their flat, a newly purchased diamond ring clutched awkwardly in his hand, and asked Whitney to marry him.

He knows that the moment her face had broken out in to a grin and she’d jumped up in her zebra print pyjamas to suffocate him in her embrace, the glow of the television screen illuminating her features and a chant of ‘ _yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you_ ’ spilling from her lips, should have been one of the best moments of his life but instead the only vague association he has of that milestone is the hollow feeling that had opened up in his stomach and the voice in the back of his mind which told him he was digging himself further and further in to a lie.

Regardless, the promise of marriage had seemed to put to bed any of Whitney’s concerns, even if it had done nothing to quell the doubts circulating in Callum’s head and the constant thoughts of Ben that seemed to fill his every day. Which was why he was barely paying attention to suggestions of pastel colour schemes and cake flavours as he and Whit made their way through the bustling midday market, her hand feeling too small and too soft in his, when a flustered looking Lola blocked their path, a bored Lexi in tow, stopping them in their tracks and snapping him out of his thoughts of biting evening air and warm skin.

His immediate thought was that the appearance of Lola and Lexi meant that Ben couldn’t be far behind, which, upon realisation that the other man was nowhere to be seen, was followed by the observation that Lexi’s eyes were practically a mirror image of her fathers’, a thought which he quickly quashed.

“You alright, Lo?” Whitney’s tone held a mixture of friendly greeting and concern as she took in the blonde woman’s frantic expression and the nervous energy radiating off of her. For a moment Callum’s heart lurched as his brain filtered through a million different possibilities about what could have Lola looking so distressed; almost every single one of them relating to Ben, before he remembered that he and Whitney were the absolute last candidates she would turn to regarding him.

“I know it’s proper out o’ the blue, but you wouldn’t be able to watch Lexi for a couple hours, would ya? Ruby’s called in sick last minute so I have to meet her client and I’d usually ask Pops but he’s taken Will and Janet out for the day.” Lola gestured down at her daughter who was absent mindedly scuffing her shoes against the gravel, seemingly used to being handed round like a pass the parcel. “Please Whit, I need this job and I’d owe you big time.”

“Ben not about?” Callum blurts out before he can stop himself, the need to know something, _anything_ , about Ben overtaking the logical part of his brain which tells him to keep quiet.

Fortunately, neither Whitney nor Lola seem to find the question out of the ordinary, instead Lola rolls her eyes so hard he thinks they might get stuck and lets out a huff of disbelief. “Chance would be a fine thing. Only ever wants anything to do with her when it suits him, don’t he?”

Whitney scoffs as if she didn’t expect anything less and Callum does his best to offer a tight, sympathetic smile in return.

“So can you take her? I swear I’ll be two hours’ tops. Ruby ‘ll kill me if I lose this business for her.” Lola gives them what he assumes is meant to be a pleading smile and he feels panic swell in the chest when he chances a glance at Whitney and sees her considering the idea. The guilt Callum feels at betraying her is bad enough, but something about having her babysit the child of the man he cheated on her with just feels fundamentally wrong and he doesn’t think he could stomach living with that knowledge.

“I don’t see why n-”

“Aren’t you working a shift at The Vic in a bit?” his brain manages to supply him with the excuse before Whitney can agree to the favour and her face quickly drops at his words, mouth snapping shut as she remembers her commitment. Callum can’t quite bring himself to feel bad about the way Lola instantly deflates.

Whitney chews on her painted fuchsia pink lip for a moment, mulling over her options; “I could always ask Shirl to cover me?” is her answer.

“Are you sure? We could do with the money, Whit,” he urges her under his breath, before Lola can get her hopes up again, to which Whitney nods in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry babe, you know I’d take her if I could but I’ve gotta work.” The blonde woman sighs but nods dejectedly, giving Lexi’s hand an affectionate squeeze before turning to go. Callum lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, almost immediately allowing room for the self-hatred to creep back in at the realisation that he might have just cost Lola her job because he was being a selfish git and trying to spare his own conscience.

He knows it’s a terrible idea the moment his brain conjures up the thought, but his problem was the idea of Whitney looking after Ben’s daughter, surely there was nothing wrong with him doing it instead?

Before he can talk himself out of it, he’s shouting after Lola, who’s barely had time to turn her back to them; “I could watch her for a bit, you know, if you want? I ain’t doing nothing.”

Lola turns around, hesitating for a beat, but apparently being Whitney’s partner makes him a suitable babysitting candidate because the next thing he knows, her face is lighting up at the offer, the bright white of her teeth clashing with the orange tint of her foundation. Meanwhile, Lexi seems completely unfazed at the prospect of being handed in to the care of a virtual stranger. Whitney is the one who seems most taken back by his suggestion, dark eyebrows pulled up in what he thinks is pleasant surprise and he tries to ignore the fact that she probably thinks this is his attempt at getting used to kids in preparation for their own.

“You’d do that?” Lola questions almost disbelievingly, as though the idea of someone she barely knew helping her out was completely preposterous. Callum can only nod in response, scared that if he opens his mouth to speak he’ll retract his offer. “Right, well, brilliant! Like I said, I’ll be a couple hours max and I swear she ain’t no hassle. Well, as long as you do what she tells ya. Her colouring stuff’s in her bag; sit her down with that and she’ll be sorted for ages.”

Callum nods along dumbly to the instructions Lola gives him, glancing at little Lexi who’s looking him up and down as though she’s analysing him, figuring out exactly how to bend him to her childish will. He has a good idea where she gets that from.

He hastily swaps numbers with Lola, her neon orange nails tapping noisily against the screen of his phone, before she crouches beside her daughter, instructing her; “Be good, and no doing his head in with Dua Lipa renditions, alright? I’ll come get you in a bit.” With that Lola presses a chaste kiss to the top of Lexi’s head and shoots Callum another grateful smile before rushing off down the street, disappearing amongst the bustle of the market.

With that, Callum is left sandwiched between a broody fiancée and an expectant seven-year-old, who’s playing with the end of her ponytail and looking as if she’s waiting for him to do either something impressive or dumb so that she can finalise her opinion of him.

“Right, well, this’ll be fun,” Callum states just for the sake of saying something, clapping his hands together and giving Lexi, what he hopes, is a friendly grin.

Now that he actually thinks about it, he realises he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with a child, and suddenly two hours of being solely responsible for one seems like a much more daunting prospect than it had previously. He tries not to dwell on the little added detail that Lexi happens to be the daughter of the man he recently slept with, who has yet to stop occupying his every waking thought.

“Aw, you’re going to be a natural babe! Get you ready for looking after our own one day, eh?” Whitney gushes, leaning herself against his arm and landing a kiss on his cheek, wiping away the lipstick stain with the pad of her thumb.

He swallows the lump that forms in his throat at the suggestion, tries to ignore the way that the thought of having children and trapping himself further in to a lie makes him want to crawl out of his own skin. He can only force a tight-lipped smile in response.

“Well, I might as well get a head start at The Vic; leave you both to it.” Whitney shifts her snake print bag further in to the crook of her arm, her eyes gleaming with excitement over the idea of Callum babysitting. “Text me if you need anything, yeah?”

She gives his arm one last reassuring pat before heading off towards the pub, leaving him alone, clueless and kicking himself for ever offering to do this in the first place.

He racks his brain for ideas about what to say or do or suggest, but the most experience he has with children is the handful of times he ‘helped’ Whitney babysit Ollie, something he doesn’t think is going to come in useful with a seven-year-old Mitchell offspring, who, if she’s anything like her father, is probably going to give him hell. Luckily, he’s saved from having to come up with a way to initiate contact when Lexi skips forward, slides her tiny hand in to his as if he’s not practically a complete stranger and begins pulling him down the street.

“Come on, you’re taking me to the playground.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and with Lola’s advice to do what she tells him echoing in his ears, he lets her drag him towards the swing set.

***

Lexi had eventually become bored with the playground after the best part of an hour, which was why Callum now found himself seated on a picnic bench in the park, a 99 flake ice cream in hand, with the little girl situated opposite him, scribbling away with her crayons and the corners of her mouth tinted blue from the ice lolly she was gorging herself on.

Despite his initial worries, Lexi had been easy enough to look after so far, only demanding that he push her higher on the swings and play some upbeat pop song on his phone so that she could perform her newly choreographed dance routine for him. He’d clapped encouragingly after she’d finished with a pose, causing her face to light up in a pleased grin as she ducked in to an over-exaggerated bow.

As well-behaved as Lexi had been, Callum hadn’t been able to help the relief he’d felt when she declared she was fed up of the playground, having been unable to quash the nerves bubbling in his stomach at being in such close proximity to The Arches, regularly throwing nervous glances over his shoulder towards the garage in case Ben suddenly appeared out of thin air. He couldn’t decide whether he was praying that he wouldn’t show up or praying that he _would_.

Now Callum was trying to ignore the memories that flooded his brain at being back in the open park, stubbornly blocking out thoughts of stubble scraping across the sensitive skin of his throat and practiced fingers pulling him closer by the belt loops of his jeans.

Thankfully, Lexi is a big enough character that it’s impossible to pay much attention to anything other than her when in her demanding presence; instead his mind is distracted by a multitude of questions from Lexi, ranging from what his favourite colour is to what it’s like working with dead people.

“What’s your favourite animal?” Lexi pipes up after a few minutes of silence, taking a break from scrawling stripes of orange across her paper and looking up at him inquiringly.

Callum thinks for a moment. Nobody’s asked him that in years. “Rabbits,” he finally settles on.

“Why?” Lexi’s voice is genuinely curious, head tilting to one side.

“We had one when I was a kid, called Peter after some old book character. Was one of those giant house ones, big as a small dog, it was.” Lexi’s face fills with wonder at that fact. Callum ignores the other bitter memories that accompany thoughts of his childhood pet, doesn’t mention to Lexi what his dad had done to the rabbit after it had chewed through the carpet or the way he’d cried himself to sleep for weeks after.

“I like horses, especially white ones; they look like unicorns,” Lexi informs him without any prompting, turning her attention back to her drawing as she talks. “Daddy took me to see some once, we fed them carrots and I got to stroke them. He says that if I’m good at school he’ll get me lessons to learn how to ride them.”

Callum takes a lick of his ice cream to hide the soft smile that flourishes on his face at the thought of Ben feeding horses with Lexi, can’t help the blossom of warmth that it causes to erupt in his chest.

There’s something about catching a glimpse of the softness beneath Ben’s hard man façade that floods Callum with affection. A sighting of the real person behind the spiteful remarks and constant teasing seems to be a rare occurrence but Callum suspects there’s more truth to the man who takes his daughter to see her favourite animal and cries when he’s had too much to drink than there is to the one who torments people for amusement and gets a kick out of seeing people squirm.

He can’t help the way it makes him feel almost special, to think that Ben opened up to him in a way that he didn’t to most people, exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself to Callum as if he were offering his heart up on a platter. However, the pleased feeling is almost immediately followed up by guilt over the fact that he has been actively avoiding the other man for the past fortnight; he couldn’t help but feel like he had taken Ben’s trust and thrown it back in his face.

“I did want a new little sister, so I’d have someone to play tea parties with when mummy and daddy are busy,” Lexi suddenly declares matter-of-factly, snapping Callum back to reality. His ice cream has started to melt down the side of his hand where he’s left it for too long and he quickly wipes it off with one of the napkins he remembered to grab. “But mummy said I can’t have one so now I want a puppy instead. Like the ones out of 101 Dalmatians.”

Callum only nods in response, unsure where she’s heading with her train of thought.

“Do you want to have babies with Whitney?”

He almost chokes on the bite of ice cream he’d just taken, spluttering in surprise at the sudden, directness of the question. Lexi doesn’t seem to have noticed his flustered reaction, too focused on the new drawing she had started, so he composes himself and tries to think of the best way to answer her query. He knows the easy answer would be to just say ‘yes’ and quash her curiosity, but his lips can’t seem to form the lie and anyway, it just seems wrong to knowingly lie to a child.

“I don’t know,” is the answer he goes with, because it seems the closest thing to the truth and if he’s honest, he doesn’t even know the answer himself. Had Lexi asked him a month ago, he thinks, he would have said yes without hesitation. But a month back feels like a lifetime ago now and his entire world has turned on it’s axis since that afternoon where he had pressed Ben up against one of the doors in the Beale house and someone had finally uncovered the secret part of himself that he had been trying to bury for over a decade.

Clearly his answer wasn’t the one Lexi was expecting because her head lifts at his words, a delicate crease forming in her brow as she looks at him.

“Why not? Don’t you love her?” Her tone isn’t accusing or angry, instead she asks out confusion, as if his answer doesn’t fit in with her black and white child’s perspective of what love is.

Callum knows he loves Whitney, knows that he’ll always love her in some way, but he no longer knows if he loves her in the way that you’re supposed to love someone in order to want to have children with them. He could have kids with her, he thinks to himself. He could be complacent, could shove his doubts and his confusion and his true feelings down so very deep that he could be content living that life, could handle the persistent voice in the back of his head that insisted he was living a lie. He knows he could do it, if only to make Whitney happy. What he doesn’t know anymore is if that’s what would make him happy.

Before he can answer, the rough-edged, gravelly voice, that he has simultaneously been dreading hearing and also dreaming of, cuts through the relative quiet of the park.

“Isn’t that the million-dollar question?” Ben’s voice is mocking and full of amusement from behind him and Callum has to ignore the shiver that the recognition sends down his spine, refusing eye contact as Ben saunters in to view.

Callum is saved from acknowledging his arrival by Lexi, who leaps up from the park bench, abandoning her colouring and instead lunging towards her father.

“Daddy!”

“Alright, trouble?” Ben grins down at his daughter, giving her her hair an affectionate ruffle when she wraps herself around his legs. “You had a good day?”

Lexi nods enthusiastically, “Callum took me to the playground and I went on the swings and then he brought me an ice lolly and it turned my tongue blue; see!” She pokes her tongue out as evidence, causing Ben’s face to split in to a natural laugh and Callum pointedly has to ignore the way his chest constricts at the sight.

“How _generous_ of him,” Ben remarks, a taunting lilt to his voice. Lexi clambers back on to the bench, legs swinging contentedly beneath her as she returns to her drawings and Ben slides in next to her, leather jacket squeaking as he moves, and settles himself directly opposite Callum. He moves with such self-assured purpose, resting his elbows on the table top and maintaining eye contact, that it makes Callum want to curl in on himself and hide like an animal being stalked by a predator.

He could probably fool himself in to thinking the feeling bubbling in his stomach was discomfort, if it weren’t for the memories of rough hands trailing purposefully down his chest and harsh kisses against his neck that were branded in to his brain with a hot iron and how he had to actively stop his eyes from dropping to the other man’s lips.

“So,” Ben sing-songs, plucking the flake out of Callum’s ice cream and biting in to it, raising his eyebrows suggestively, “you’ve been avoiding me.”

Callum drops his eyes to his hands, one look at the full, pink curve of Ben’s mouth makes him remember how good it had felt pressing sloppy kisses against his collarbone, and tries to ignore the heat he can feel creeping in to his cheeks.

He throws the rest of his ice cream in to the bin next to the bench, uses the momentary distraction to compose himself before meeting Ben’s eyes. He tries not to squirm under Ben’s heavily loaded gaze, which somehow manages to be both utterly disinterested yet full of thinly veiled intent.

“No I ain’t. Have just been busy, is all.” It’s a lie and they both know it.

“Oh that’s right, I almost forgot congratulations are in order,” Ben’s quick to bite back, pouncing straight on the opportunity to mention the engagement. “I never realised you were so eager to pop the question, mind you; you do have quite the knack for getting down on your knees from what I remember.”

Callum splutters at that, glaring at Ben incredulously, but the other man remains unfazed, staring back at him through hooded eyes. Callum shoots a worried glance at Lexi, scared that she’d overheard but she’s still hunched over her paper, concentrated on scribbling away with her crayons.

“I don’t- I mean, I didn’t-,” he trips over his own words, wants to kick himself at the way he lets Ben turn him in to such a frenzied mess with nothing but a few words and a lustful look. He wipes a hand over his face in frustration, attempts to organise the whirlpool of thoughts spinning around his head.

“Look, can we forget about the other week?” he finally manages to articulate, his tone pleading as he meets Ben’s eyes, tries to ignore the desire swimming in them. Maybe if they can put this behind them, write it off as a drunken mistake, then his brain would sort itself out and this pit of confusion and longing and guilt inside him would finally disappear. “I’d had a few too many and I was confused and my head was all over the place and I love Whiney, alright? So can we just…”

He stops short, breath catching in his throat, when he realises that he’s shifted forwards as he’s been talking, unconsciously leaning in until he can feel Ben’s breath on his face and his knuckles are brushing against Ben’s on the table top. Their hands are barely even grazing but he’s acutely aware of the point of contact where their skin is touching and suddenly the air between them seem thick with tension.

“Can we just what?” Ben is the first to speak, but his voice is deep and breathy, careful not to disrupt the moment.

Callum opens his mouth to reply but no words come out, can’t think of anything past the clear, icy blue of Ben’s eyes and the long curtain of lashes that frame them, catching the orange sunlight and casting faint shadows that almost touch his eyebrows. He wets his lips, gaze unintentionally slipping down to other man’s mouth, focus lingering on the almost undetectable scar that mars the skin above his cupid’s bow, remembers how the indentation had felt beneath his own mouth.

Ben is watching him with fascinated curiosity, waiting with anticipation to see what move he decides to take next. It’s only when Ben shifts, extends his arm almost imperceptibly so that his palm is resting atop of his, that Callum is jolted out of his reverie. It’s as if the touch sends a current through him and he jolts backwards, body practically thrumming with electricity as he leans back on the bench, breaking the trance.

Ben doesn’t seem fazed by his reaction, looks almost amused by it actually, and it’s only then that Callum becomes aware he hasn’t extracted his hand from beneath the other man’s, but even upon noticing, he makes no move to do so. Ben’s skin is warm against his, to the point of being comforting and almost familiar, and a nagging thought in the back of Callum’s head wonders when one touch from the Mitchell thug caused more feelings to stir within him than his entire relationship with Whitney ever had.

He leaves his hand where it is, and Ben’s smug features soften in to something gentler when he realises Callum has no intention of drawing away.

“She’s a good kid,” Callum inclines his head towards Lexi just for the sake of shifting Ben’s attention; she’s humming some indistinguishable song under her breath, nodding her head to the tune as she does so, “you’re lucky.” Ben follows his eye line, smiles proudly at his daughter, but doesn’t say anything.

“I never really-”, Callum starts but stops himself, doesn’t know why he feels so inclined to open up to to other man, even when unprompted. Part of him feels he owes it to Ben, after the way he had opened up to him about Paul. Another part of him recognises that Ben is the only person in the world privy to who Callum truly is, simultaneously making him the only person that he can be unashamedly honest with. A tiny, niggling part of him insists that he’s doing it because he wants to be closer to the other man.

Ben waits, sarcastic quips and scathing remarks nowhere to be found (for once), instead his thumb has started rubbing soothing circles in to the soft flesh of Callum’s wrist.

“I never really thought about getting married or having kids or any o’ that stuff,” he takes a deep breath and continues, eyes settling on a dark knot in the wood of the table top. “Never really thought ‘bout girls much at all. I always thought it was ‘cause I was young, you know? Was more interested in footie and music and stuff like that; thought it was normal. And then I joined the army and didn’t have time to think ‘bout much else, figured it would ‘appen eventually.”

Callum laughs but it sounds bitter even to his own ears. His eyes flit up to glance at Ben, who just stares back at him; he doesn’t look judging or sympathetic of amused, just interested.

“When d’ya realise?”

Callum swallows; he’s never spoke to anyone about this sort of stuff before, never even really, truly acknowledged it himself, but somehow it feels natural telling Ben, as if he can say whatever he wants and not get rejected or mocked for it, despite Ben’s track record for taking the mick.

“Dunno if I ever fully realised; just tried t’ ignore it, pretended it weren’t there,” Ben nods slightly in understanding. “Was in the army when I realised I looked at boys the way most of ‘em looked at girls but even then it didn’t really register, ya know? Just put it down as being ‘cause I was surrounded by lads all the time, I guess. ‘N then I met Whit; could hardly believe she was even giving me the time of day; everyone was tellin’ me I was punchin’. And being with her, it was jus’ easy, I liked it; making her happy.”

“And eventually it stopped being enough.” Ben’s words are a statement, not a question. Callum knows it’s pointless trying to lie to him; Ben has a window in to the deepest, most hidden parts of him and there’s no way to shut him out.

Even so, Callum’s lips can’t bring himself to confirm what Ben is saying. Something about admitting it, speaking it in to existence where it could never be revoked, felt like breathing life in to the thing he had been trying to repress for years. As long as it was contained within the recesses of his mind, it could be denied, could be ignored.

“I do love her,” is the admission that he settles on instead, feels like the safest thing he can say. And it’s not a lie, it never has been; he does love Whitney, knows he would do anything to keep her happy, including indulging in a lie for the rest of his life. But he’s only just realising that maybe he loves her in a way that’s safe and secure, like a home comfort that he knows he’s outgrown but can’t bring himself to leave behind because it’s easier than the alternative.

“I told myself that about Abi,” Ben offers after a few moments silence, as though he’s been deliberating whether to share this information or not. Callum supposes he isn’t as naturally inclined to wear his heart on his sleeve when he’s stone cold sober.

Callum has a vague knowledge of who Abi was, and the context of her and Ben, through titbits of information he’s gathered from Whitney; he knows that she was Max’s daughter, that she was in some semblance of a relationship with Ben when he was trying to convince himself that he was straight, that she died after an accident on The Vic rooftop.

“I tried _so_ hard to love her; thought that if I managed, the way I felt about blokes would just disappear ‘n I could finally be the son that my old man always wanted.” For the first time throughout their conversation, Ben is no longer looking directly at Callum, instead his gaze has dropped down to their combined hands, eyes tracking the movement of his thumb as it repeatedly traces a course over Callum’s knuckles. “But it don’t work like that; no matter how hard you try ‘n bury it, it’s always there, just bubbling below the surface, waiting to catch you out. But you already know that, don’t ya?”

“I’m not ready to-,” Callum shakes his head, prepares to argue, but Ben surprises him by interrupting.

“I know.” His expression is serious this time, eyes containing to trace of their usual teasing glint as they bore in to Callum’s. Ben’s grip has tightened, ever so slightly, on his wrist, as though he’s urging him to understand, and Callum discovers that he welcomes the increase in pressure, almost like a grounding force. “I meant what I said; ‘bout not rushing ya.”

“Then why are you- “

“’Cause it’s not easy. I _know_ it’s not easy. ‘N I thought you could use a mate.” Ben’s voice is sincere but his expression has grown cautious, almost guarded, as if he’s waiting for Callum to laugh in his face and reject his hand of friendship.

Callum is too stunned to do anything of the sort; he’d been going out of his way to avoid Ben for _weeks_ for fear of being met with nasty japes and thinly veiled taunts (although he suspects those things have yet to make their final appearance). Not once had he contemplated the idea that Ben might actually want to help him.

He wants to tell Ben that it’s a terrible idea; knows that spending time with the other man will only increase the storm of desire and lust and burning _want_ currently raging within him. He already can’t shake his thoughts of Ben’s hands curling in to the hair at the nape of his neck or the phantom ache in the flesh of his hip bones, where Ben’s fingertips had gripped hard enough to bruise, reminding him that they’re already miles past the point of being friends.

But there’s a bigger part of him, the part that had offered to babysit Lexi in the unconscious hope of seeing Ben, the same part that makes his heart beat a little faster and the hair on his arms stand on end whenever the younger man is close, the part that can’t forget how good their bodies felt as one, that will do everything in it’s power to be as close to Ben, and spend as much time with him, as physically possible.

Callum opens his mouth to reply, not yet decided exactly what it is he’s going to say, but he’s beaten to it.

“Finished!” Lexi declares proudly, setting down the brown crayon in her hand and directing both Ben and Callum’s attention towards her.

She pushes her completed drawing away from her, sliding it across the table top towards Callum and awaits his reaction. He untangles his hands from Ben’s and picks up the sheet of paper, taking a minute to process exactly what is is that the drawing is depicting and his face softens upon realisation.

Upon the paper, Lexi has drawn her best attempt at a person; it’s pretty impressive considering her age, Callum notes, if you ignore how the figure has two left feet and no neck. The person she’s drawn has quiffed brown hair and is wearing a black suit and the name ‘Calom’ is scrawled messily above his head in blue. Next to the person is what can only be described as a grey, scribbled lump and the only way that Callum is able to decipher what it’s supposed to be is by the two ears pointing out from what he assumes is meant to be a head, the round tail and the label ‘Peter’ stamped below it.

“That’s you,” Lexi points at the person, “and that’s your bunny rabbit from when you were little. Do you like it?” She folds her arms, looking proudly at her drawing before shifting her focus to Callum, eagerly awaiting his feedback.

Callum presses his lips together but even that can’t supress the grin that breaks out on his face, he can feel the skin around his eyes crinkling from the way his smile reaches up his cheeks as he lets out a huff of appreciation.

“It’s brilliant. I love it,” he meets Lexi’s eye and tells her honestly, which causes her face to light up like a Christmas tree; that was clearly the reaction she had been hoping for.

He knows it’s probably silly, that he’s so delighted about a drawing from a seven-year-old he first spoke to less than two hours ago, but the gesture feels like a token of Lexi’s approval and after being so nervous about looking after her in the first place it successfully chips away at the nerves that have been lingering for hours.

Ben is looking between the two of them with a look that Callum can’t quite interpret on his face, a mixture between amusement and fondness, as if his daughter’s acceptance and obvious affection for Callum is something that he hadn’t expected but is clearly pleased about.

“What’s your favourite flower?” Lexi questions next, tapping her crayon against her chin thoughtfully, clearly planning for her next masterpiece.

He deliberates his answer for a moment, not wanting to pick something too obscure that she won’t know of, finally pointing towards the white buds beginning to blossom in the flowerbed; “Daisies.”

Lexi follows his gesture, takes a good look at the flower, before nodding, satisfied, and starting on her new picture.

“Was that a hint? Should I be taking notes?” Ben quips cheekily, one side of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. “Joke,” he clarifies, in response to the exasperated look Callum throws his way. “So, what’s with the rabbit?”

“It’s a long story,” Callum shrugs, not exactly wanting to get in to trauma over childhood pets in the middle of the park.

“Yeah? Well ya can tell me over lunch at the café; I’m buyin’.” Ben quirks an eyebrow in invitation, already moving off of the bench.

“I shouldn’t-” Callum’s instant reflex is to decline, doesn’t trust himself to spend even more time around Ben, especially in a setting that would feel so close to a date, without deepening the seed of attraction that has rooted itself in his belly. As usual, Ben beats him to it.

“I’ve gotta feed this eating machine anyway,” he nods to Lexi, “and seeing as you seem to be her new best friend, she’ll only nag me ear off if you don’t come with.”

Callum knows it’s probably a lie, a shameless tactic employed to talk him in to it, but the part of him that craves to be close to Ben only requires the slightest of persuasion, and so he finds himself relenting.

“Alright, why not?” It’s a stupid thing to say; there are a million reasons why not, but with Ben standing in front of him, stretching his arms skyward to click his back, inadvertently hitching up the hem of his shirt to reveal Callum’s handiwork; the remnants of speckled yellowing hickeys littering the pale skin of his hipbone, he can’t seem to remember any of them.

“Callum’s gonna come to the café with us, ‘s that alright, princess? You can get one ‘o those milkshakes you like,” Ben questions Lexi, whose entire demeanour brightens at the offer. She nods eagerly, returning her paper and pencils carefully in to her rucksack which she then shifts on to her back.

Ben helps her off of the bench, hauling her up by her armpits with an exaggerated _whoosh_ sound that makes her giggle, before setting her down on her feet. He naturally slides his hand in to his daughter’s, starts to walk away before he notices Callum’s hesitation and turns back around.

Callum bites down on his lip in deliberation. He knows he should stay put; Lexi doesn’t need babysitting anymore and there’s no reason for him to spend any more time in Ben’s company than he already has; his best bet would be to go back to the flat he shares with his fiancée and wait for her to get home, that should be what he wants to do. Except what he _wants_ is to follow Ben, to give in to the magnetic pull that’s been drawing him towards the other man since the last time they were in this park (hell, even before that).

“You comin’, lover boy?” Ben calls back, teasing, except this time there’s no bite behind his jest, no bitter undertone or double-edged meaning, and Callum finds himself amused at the comment instead of unsettled by it.

And so he gives in to the pull and follows.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing i've written in absolutely forever, but what can i say; ben and callum have inspired me. this was purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoyed it anyway!
> 
> i'm also @ benscallum on twitter and @ winterfellbarnes on tumblr!


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